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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27565879">settling like dew.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangryblob/pseuds/theangryblob'>theangryblob</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Pining, Sick Character, Unrequited Crush</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:02:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27565879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangryblob/pseuds/theangryblob</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The fever - it makes him dizzy. Turns him into a baby, soft and pliant in a way Kenjirou has never seen him before. </p><p>Like this, he’s helpless, crumbling. Kenjirou can only be there to catch him when he falls.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Shirabu Kenjirou/Ushijima Wakatoshi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>WIP OLYMPICS: WINTER 2020/21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>settling like dew.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>a drabble that started out of nowhere and goes nowhere. cleaned up and posted.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The fever - it makes him dizzy. Turns him into a baby, soft and pliant in a way Kenjirou has never seen him before. It’s not that Wakatoshi doesn’t listen. He’s obedient, diligent to a fault. there’s always a way to reason with him, even if his logic works differently than most. But like this, he’s helpless, crumbling. Kenjirou can only be there to catch him when he falls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s burning up under his palm, sweat beading on his forehead like dew. Kenjirou brushes the hair away from his face, tucking it away as neatly as he can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to eat, Ushijima-san.” hair clips, maybe. Though he wouldn’t know where to find any, and he’s not keen on leaving Wakatoshi by himself. “You need your strength.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wakatoshi turns his back and huffs, and for a moment Kenjirou thinks he’s being refused. He swallows, sees the way Wakatoshi has sweat through his shirt before he grunts, forces himself to sit up. His limbs are shaking, knots drawn at the top of his spine, his whole body struggling to lift itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, Kenjirou rushes forward, firm hands on his shoulders. Wakatoshi shudders, leans into him so much that Kenjirou sucks in a breath, has to crawl onto the futon to give Wakatoshi his full support.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he mumbles, forehead pressed against Kenjirou's shoulder. He's shivering, pained to just sit up. “I didn’t mean to cause you all of this trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s blunt, as he always is, and Kenjirou's heart twists in his chest, fibres threatening to snap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenjirou bites his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it,” he sits cross legged, gently pushing away the blanket from their feet. “I just want you to get better. It’s no use feeling sorry for yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not pitying myself,” Wakatoshi sits up, slowly, carefully. “But I could have taken care of myself. You should be studying, or at practice.” And then, as an afterthought, “what time is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considers lying for a moment, saving Wakatoshi the embarrassment, before deciding against it. Kenjirou doesn’t want to give him anything but the truth. “It’s just past seven. You’ve been out for a couple hours now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wakatoshi looks at him, eyes shining, blinking slowly. There’s a sheen of sweat on his face, making him glow pink and gold. His skin looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, strangely, and kenjirou has the disgusting urge to kiss his cheek, taste his sweat and warmth and take care of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t, turning around to get the tray of porridge and setting it in front of Wakatoshi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wakatoshi picks up the bowl obediently, but he looks at Kenjirou, scrutinizing him. He feels himself burn under the intensity of that gaze, but he doesn’t flinch. He knows his own faults and flaws. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you here the whole time? You should have been at practice, Shirabu.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenjirou keeps his hands in his lap, bowing his head a little bit. He doesn’t know whether he should lie or tell the truth. “I should have been.”</span>
</p>
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